


Playground

by romanticalgirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This used to be my playground [used to be]/This used to be my childhood dream<br/>This used to be the place I ran to/ Whenever I was in need<br/>Of a friend...<br/>This used to be my playground [used to be] /This used to be our pride and joy<br/>This used to be the place we ran to/ That no one in the world could dare destroy</p><p> </p><p>Co-written with Amy who is no longer in fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angelus

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 2000

1738 

He liked the ocean. It was right near his town, barely two miles from his house, and so he would walk there every day, even in the winter to watch the waves turn white when they hit the rocks and the sand. His mother would make him bundle up, even in the spring, lest a cold caught him, she would say. He loved his mother.

And he would wear the heavy coats and gloves until he got there, when he would strip them off to leave him standing in his small waistcoat and trousers. Sometimes he would take off his shoes, too. And always, always, he would watch the people.

They were a strange sight sometimes. They would load on and off the ships, women in frilly dresses with skirts unlike his mother's and umbrellas to keep the sun away. Why would anyone want to avoid the sun? he would wonder. The sun would heat up, the breeze was always blowing, and made the air fresh and sweet smelling.

The men would be wearing top hats and tails, and he wondered about that, too. The village was a small one for a long time, what could these people want with it? Only they did come, and would look at him, with his dark, scraggly locks and twinkling eyes and dirty feet, like he was something horrible to behold.

He didn't like those ones.

But there were others, he found out. One day in the summer season, his mother announced that it was warm enough to go to the docks with no coat, and he ran into her skirts, pressing his face against her hip and she laughed and scooped him up, kissing him on the nose. "Ah, my little Angel," she whispered. He snuggled against her, for the first time since he had grown into his sixth year, and kissed her cheek, allowing himself to be the little boy that she loved.

Angelus was named for his father, but he thought that there could be worse things than being thought of as a heavenly creature. He had always wanted wings. His mother was the only one he would let call him Angel, and he only did that because she was so precious to him, working hard on their farm, under the guidance of his papa.

So, on that day, he ran to the docks, the sun beating down on his back and making him feel happy and alive and free and the wind was as soft as the hay he sometimes fed to the cows. He began skipping when he reached the docks, and the wood under his feet gave him small splinters, but he didn't mind. His mother said that he had hard feet and a hard head. And then she would laugh, and so would he, and he would agree with her. He wondered why she always laughed harder when he agreed.

Skidding to a stop, he sat on a nearby plank and began to assess the people who walked off the ships. There was one group, in particular, that caught Angelus' eye, and he watched them talk and laugh together. Angelus noticed that though they were dressed the same as the others who disembarked, they smiled a lot more.

They began walking in his direction, and he sat up a little straighter, noting that the little girl with hair of honey and huge blue eyes was watching him. There was also a little boy with hair of soil and another little girl with hair of fire. They held hands and walked with the first girl, occasionally looking over at him.

Angelus decided he didn't like the other boy. He kept sending mean stares his way.

The group of people stopped before him and the adults talked among themselves for a minute before the blue-eyed girl tugged on a woman's skirt. She spoke, and Angelus' heart thumped suddenly, even though he and his brother had vowed to hate girls forever. But her voice was soft and sweet and warm, like the honeysuckle patch he passed every day. The woman leaned down to hear what she was saying.

The little girl pointed to Angelus, and his eyes widened as she talked to her mother. "Mummy, perhaps this boy could point us in the right direction," she said with an air of sophistication he had rarely seen. And even though she looked at least a year younger than his seven, her voice seemed older, more practiced and cultured. And her mother nodded to the other adults and headed over to him with a smile.

He stood, suddenly worried about his appearance. Though his face was tanned, it was also dirty, and so were his feet and hands. He wiped them surreptitiously on his trousers. The group met him and the woman who had the same blue eyes as the little girl leaned down to smile at him.

"Would you perhaps know of an inn or cottage where our family could possibly rent some rooms for the night, young man?" she asked.

Angelus nodded. "Aye, I do. Would you like me to lead your way there?" he asked her politely, unconsciously following the lead of the little girl. The little girl beamed at him and her mother nodded warmly, as did the other adults.

"That would be quite nice, thank you. Is it far?"

He shook his head. "No farther than the edge of town, Missus."

He nodded in the direction he would be traveling and the group made sounds of pleased affirmation. He began to lead the way, relishing in the feel of being grown and having people follow him, and also the smell that suddenly invaded his nose.

Wait, smell? He turned to see the blue-eyed girl catching up to him quickly and yes, she was sending of a lovely fragrance as she tugged her friends with her. Apples, he thought, apples from an orchard blessed by the spring. She finally trotted up to him and charmed him with a sweet smile. "Good afternoon," she murmured.

"Aye, it 'tis. My name is Angelus," he offered after a moment. Her large eyes were distracting him.

"Annabelle," she replied. "It's nice to meet you. You're being very nice by taking us to the inn. These are my cousins," she said, gesturing to the boy and the girl beside her. He waited in silence for them to introduce themselves.

"William," the boy finally gave, somewhat sourly.

"Alexandria," the red-haired girl fairly whispered. He looked at her, surprised over her feathery, shy voice. All the redheads he knew had loud thoughts and an equally loud temper to match. Alexandria spoke again. "So did Annabuffy tell you why we were here?"

Angelus' eyebrows shot up, and he looked at Annabelle sideways. Annabuffy? Who was that? She noticed his gaze and giggled. "That's just what Alexandria calls me," she laughed. Trusting the dark eyed boy suddenly and openly, she confided, "Ever since I can remember, she called me that."

She giggled again, and Angelus' heart pounded. "I like it," he decided quickly. Her shining blue eyes were his reward and he understood suddenly why is papa looked at his mother like he did.

The boy spoke up. "What kind of a name for a boy is Angelus?" he asked.

Angelus started to speak, but was cut off by Annabelle. "It's a nice one. An angel name," she said, locking eyes with him, even as she shoved William in the ribs with her elbow in a most unladylike fashion. Another little girl made her way from behind the skirts and pants of the adults following him, and placed herself in place next to Angelus, almost pushing Annabelle in her haste.

"Hello," she cooed, her rich, dark hair shining in the sun. He took a step away from her, and found himself next to Annabelle again. He looked at her with a questioning glance and she lifted her shoulders helplessly.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce my other cousin," she said, annoyed. "This is Cora."

Cora stuck her hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Angel," she said softly. Angelus didn't really like her, but shook her hand anyway.

"Angelus," he immediately corrected, taking a glance at Annabelle through the corner of his eye. She was watching him talk to Cora, a little nervously he thought. Strangely enough, that gave him a warm feeling in his stomach.

Stepping towards Annabelle, he fell into step again and offered her his arm like a gentleman would have, or at least like his papa had told him that a gentleman would do. With delighted eyes, she took it, placing her small hand around his elbow and walking with him.

Angelus noticed that William playfully gave Alexandria his arm and watched as Cora got mad over this ignoring of her. She fell behind them, and he spoke no more to her.

They reached the inn, and Angelus looked at the nearing sign sadly. This meant that Annabelle would take her hand off his arm, and that he wouldn't get to talk to her. This meant that he wouldn't find out if Alexandria's voice could reach above a whisper, or if William could be friendly. He lowered his voice, so that only Annabelle could hear.

"'Tis it possible that you and your kin are staying a while?" he asked, hoping.

Slowly she shook her head. "No. Mother and Father and my aunts and uncles are leaving tomorrow morning, I think. We are meeting more of my family in three days time, and it's quite a journey by boat." They stopped in front of the large brick building and he looked up to see Annabelle's mother looking at him fondly. "Thank you, young man, for your directions. Come, children," she commanded softly. Cora followed her immediately inside, sending a glare behind her, and William followed quickly after. Alexandria was next, but she sent him a soft smile and curled a tip of her hair around her finger.

"It was nice meeting you, Angelus," she said in a regular voice. He grinned, flashing white teeth against the tan skin of his face.

"Oh, but the pleasure was mine," he replied, fast friends with her, even as she turned to walk away. The adults walked indoors and he was left alone with Annabelle.

She twirled some hair around her finger, much in the same manner than her cousin had. "I hope to see you again someday, Angel..."

His heart sped up, and he didn't correct her, for he found that he liked the sound of that nickname coming from her lips. She looked at her hand, which was still resting on his arm, and finally took it away, and Angelus couldn't account for the sudden loss he felt.

"And I as well, Anna... Buffy," he murmured. Her smile shone brilliantly, and he was glad at his choice in using that name. Being most scandalous, hoping that her Mum wouldn't look out the door and see her acting in such a manner, she leaned forward and gently brushed his cheek with her lips.

She pulled back, and Angelus lifted his hand to his cheek, his heart pounding in a strange and new and crazy way. Annabelle stepped back, blushing and sprinted into the inn.

He stood and watched the building for a long time, wishing he could go inside and see this new girl again, but at last he turned and walked quickly over the moors to his own little cottage. He wanted to see his mother, but knew that he wouldn't tell her about this interesting thing that had happened to him.

Every day after that summer season, he awoke early and ran down to the docks, hoping that Annabelle and her family would be on one of the ships and see him, talk to him. They never were, and after the summer season ended, he began to forget about the pretty girl with large blue eyes and warm lips. He still would visit the docks, but after years had gone by, he didn't remember what he was hoping to see, or what drew him there.

But he always went, and the docks were always waiting for him.


	2. William

1798

He promised himself that he would never cry. No, after learning the hard way, the way his papa taught him, he would never cry again. Tears were for girls and babies, his papa said. They had no place in a man's eye. And then his papa would hit him with the strap and he would close his eyes tightly, swallowing the pain and the crying, swallowing any good feeling he had that day.

And, after a while, he *didn't* cry when his papa hit him. He grew into a strong, healthy boy, who loved his mum with his whole heart. He was taller than the other children, with thick brown hair and blue eyes the color of the sea.

He had never seen the sea, but his mum had once, when she was healthy. And she promised him that he would go someday. She had promised him lots of things, like that when she was well again, his papa would stop hitting him. That when she was as strong as she used to be, they would go away together, and maybe travel across the ocean to the Americas.

They never got that chance, however.

He woke up one morning and went in to see her before he went to help his papa with work. For a long time he stared at her, holding her hand. She didn't awaken, and he refused to wonder why. She was just tired. She was tired a lot. She would wake up later, and look at him with blue eyes that matched his.

He left the room quietly, numbly. His eyes and ears shut down, until he saw his papa, drinking at the rickety table.

Rage that was unknown to him now boiled up in his stomach, and his papa for once looked at him with no malice. There was a silent message that seemed to pass between them, and he knew that if he didn't leave, run away as fast as his legs would take him, that his papa would be dead too.

And even for all the hate that filled his heart, he could not hurt his papa. He ran.

He ran for what seemed like miles and miles, through the small town, off to the outskirts, rushing past carriages and men and women with polite smiles who seemed worried about the little, dark haired, dirty boy who was manfully trying not to cry.

When his lungs seemed ready to burst and were burning a hole in his chest, he stopped, heaving. The gasps came quickly, harshly, and then slowed down as he realized that he didn't know where he was.

He was standing in front of a house with a gate, and the dark was almost upon him. As no lanterns seemed to have been lit in the house yet, he climbed clumsily over the fence and fell onto the soft grass, laying there and panting. After a moment, he lifted himself up and looked around.

He was in the middle of an amazing garden. The scent of the roses that were just beginning to close as night fell still lingered in the air, as well as flowers that he had never seen, in colors he hadn't known existed. He walked up a smooth stone path to a swinging bench and sat heavily on it, his eyes locking on one sweet bud that remained open. He wanted to look at it forever. His mum loved roses.

A sweet, clear voice broke into his thoughts. "Who are you?"

He looked up, startled, to see two little girls standing near him, holding hands. They were dressed in the finest silk cloth, ruffles and lace everywhere, and looked no older than six years, two years younger than he. One had shining blond hair in ringlets and the other had glowing red, tied up in a rope fashion. His eyes widened, and he stood.

The little blond girl rushed to him. "Oh, no! Don't leave. We just wanted to know who you were."

The redheaded girl nodded. "I'm Rose and this is Beth. We're not mad," she confirmed quietly.

He slowly nodded, sinking back into the bench. "I'm.. I am..."

Beth smiled. "You are?" she encouraged.

"William. Will."

The two girls walked closer and sat on either side of him. "Why did you come to our house? Were you being chased by something?" Rose's eyes flickered fear as she asked, and William shook his head.

"No, miss," he answered, his voice wavering. "I just saw your... playground and wanted to look closer."

Beth touched his hand. "Are you sure?"

He began to nod, but was taken into shock with the simple caress of tenderness that these girls offered. His shoulders shook suddenly, and his chest heaved with quiet sobs as he buried his face in his hands. One of the girls, Will wasn't sure which, gathered him into her arms like she must have seen done by an adult and offered him comfort. The other followed suit and he let his heart break, and immediately be healed by the touch of their caring hands. And it felt so good to cry again, a voice whispered in his head. It felt so good to be free.

The sound of a breath catching made him pull his tear streaked face away from a warm shoulder, and look up. A tall man with light green eyes stood there, confused and obviously unsure of how to handle the situation. After a moment of stunned silence, Beth pulled away and stood.

"Papa... This is William," she stated simply, with pleading eyes. She turned back to Will. "This is our papa, Robert Giles."

Will stood, wiping his hands quickly over his dirty, wet cheeks. "Sir," he said quietly. Mr. Giles continued to assess him a moment longer and then nodded towards the house.

"We have a bathroom if you wish to clean up," he offered gruffly, looking down at his daughters delighted faces. "And a warm bed if you choose to stay the night."

Will looked up at him, his eyes large, wondering if it was a dream, a smile flickering over his face. The thought of his mum began to wander through his mind, however, and the smile dropped. "My mum died," he said quietly.

Mr. Giles's eyes widened. "Good Lord, Boy, come inside."

Debating, Will finally looked up and saw the faces of the two sisters staring at him. He looked at the man who was waiting in a pained silence for his decision. He thought of his papa, who was at home drinking, and his mum who was dead. He thought of the lovely garden-playground. He thought of the rose.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

Mr. Giles looked relieved and he quickly ushered the boy inside. As soon as the warmth hit him, Will was relieved at his decision. He sent a silent thanks to whoever was listening, whoever had thought of him, and loved him enough to provide him with all of these riches.

To whoever guided him to this playground.


	3. Drusilla

1843

They talked about her behind her back, as though she couldn't hear the cruel taunts singing inside her head. They said she was touched. They said she was Satan's child. They said she was evil.

She wasn't evil. She could feel the goodness in her heart, dancing with the love of all things true and holy. She prayed every night, she read her Bible, just like her Mum told her to do. She always did as she was told.

But the visions came. At first they were just dreams that she sometimes remembered. But she'd only remember them after something had happened that made her recall the vivid imagery that had filled her mind's eye. Once, when her cousin was trampled by his horse, she stared at the wild animal forcing his bloody body against the ground with its hooves and she'd laughed and laughed. For it had already happened in her dreams and she'd tried to warn him.

The laughter had dissolved into tears, however, when her family had looked at her in horror and surprise. "Horrid child," she heard come from the gathered masses as they backed away from her.

She never told anyone about the dreams or the visions. She realized they were visions when the first one came during the day. She saw a man with dark eyes of molten desire, his face predatory and fierce. But she wasn't afraid. Something in him called to her and made her think of spinning through the stars in his arms.

"Drusilla?"

She blinked rapidly, turning her attention back to her tutor. She was a lovely woman with dark red hair all caught up in a bun. "Sorry, Ma'am."

She knelt before the small desk and stroked the dark hair back. "Dru, you have to study. You mustn't daydream. Your mother already worries at the time you spend playing with your dolls. She feels you should be ready to become a lady."

"I'll be a lady, Willa. I promise. But I can't help the dreams when they come. I don't ask for them."

"I know, sweet. But be careful. Your parents are having troubles with some of the town people. They say they've sired a witch, and I don't want to see anything happen to you."

"They say I'm from the devil, Willa. Do you think it's true? I try to be good."

"I think you're wonderful, and not of the devil at all, except perhaps when you get into mischief with your cousins Alex and Wilhelm." She laughed softly. "Although I think they're far more devilish than you."

Drusilla slipped out of her chair and hugged her tutor tightly. At least until the vision started. A young, beautiful redhead, next to a blond young man. She has tears in her eyes and she's scared of him. He's threatening her, needing something he's loved and lost. Needing her to find it. And her love is lying nearby dying.

Moving back, she stared into Willa's face. The older girl looked at her concerned, wondering what had caused the young girls heart to start beating so quickly. "You want my Spike."

"Drusilla?"

She screamed and began clawing at Willa's face, scratching long streaks down the creamy complexion. Blood dripped from the shredded face of the woman she'd always considered her friend. "You mustn't take him. He belongs to me!"

Willa scrambled backwards, her feet tangling in her skirt as she tried to get away from the child. "Drusilla!" She kicked out with her foot, sending the younger girl flying back against the wall. They each lay there, staring at each other. Both of their eyes tinged with fear and understanding, although of a different sort.

"Redheaded witch!" Drusilla screamed, running toward her tutor.

Strong arms caught her around the waist and carried her to the large glass doors that lined the room. "Drusilla!"

Her body stilled at the sound of her father's voice, and she hung limply from his arms. "Yes, Papa?"

"Go outside."

She watched as her brother and aunt rushed in and gathered the redheaded witch into their arms. Willa's eyes met hers and she seemed frightened, which gave Drusilla a magnificent rush of power. "I'll have you for my breakfast someday."

"Drusilla. Now!" Her father deposited her outside the doors and shut them firmly behind her. She wandered through the garden until she reached the small playhouse her father had built for her last birthday. She'd insisted that, at the age of six, she needed a house of her own.

Slipping inside, she surveyed the room, making sure nothing had been tampered with. Her brother and cousins loved to come in her and place all sorts of horrors such as spiders and snakes in her sanctuary. Looking around, she noticed one thing out of place.

"You're not where you belong."

"I have to leave tonight."

She stared up at the man from her daydream, losing herself in his eyes. They were dark as the night, reflecting her trusting, upturned face. "You said you'd stay and be my daddy. You said you'd stay here in my playground." She felt the tears and grew angry. "You promised!"

"Drusilla," his soft Irish lilt soothed her. "I'll be your daddy. But for now, I have other things to do. I have to prepare the rest of the world for you, love. Don't you want for me to give you a bigger place to play?"

She nodded, sitting across from him at the small table. She picked up the teapot and poured for her dolls. She didn't mind the thick, red liquid that spilled forth or the soft growl that issued forth from her guest. "Will I have brothers and sisters?"

"Not exactly."

"Will Miss Edith come with me?" She gathered one of her dolls onto her lap and tilted the cup for her. Blood ran down her porcelain face, staining the pristine white dress she wore.

"You know better," he admonished, taking the cup from her. He moved into Miss Edith's vacant seat and took the doll from her.

"Show me again? Show me how you'll love me when you're my daddy?"

He raised the doll, his face morphing, licking the blood off the smooth surface. Drusilla squealed with delight as he finished, tossing the doll to the side and lifting Drusilla herself onto his lap. "When you're mine," he whispered his breath coppery with the scent of blood, "I'll drink from your lips and your neck and you'll drink from mine."

"Will you love me? Even my insides?"

"I'll love you inside and out, my sweet Drusilla." He set her down and ran a hand through her hair. "But you'll have to be good and wait for me to return."

"Will you go away for a long time?"

"Until you're ready for me."

"When will that be?"

"You'll know." He guided her to the door, knowing that the sun would soon set and he would have to join William in the hunt. "And you'll be ready."

"What will you do?"

"Ready the world for you."

"Will you?"

He nodded, kissed her soft hair and pushed her toward the door. "It will be at your feet, ready to be anything you wish it to be."

She laughed delightedly and ran from the playhouse, almost as though she were a normal child. She spun in a circle until she grew dizzy and fell to the ground. Looking up at the sky, she hugged herself tightly and dreamed of having the world be her own personal playground.


	4. Ethan

1964

Creeping over the fence that surrounded the abandoned house, he found himself on the outskirts of what had once been an amazing garden. It had, undoubtedly, once been a world rife with color and beauty, but all that remained were the husks of long dead bushes and trees, overgrown with weeds and grasses, clothing their skeletons in a brownish green cloak of decay.

Making his way into the labyrinth of the garden, he hid himself near the stump of a tree, surrounding himself with wild reeds that had sprung up around it. It was almost like being in the country, lost in the smell of heather and wild flowers. Although the only scents that reached his nose were decay and exhaust from the street outside.

Pulling the bottle from his pocket, he opened it and set it beside his leg. He came here to escape. He wasn't welcome on the playground anymore, since the fight he'd gotten into with the town bullies. It had been a stupid fight, defending his parents against the words of the townspeople, but it was a fight he'd had to take part in.

His father may be a drunk. His mother may be a whore. But it didn't mean he had to listen to everyone talk about it. Funny, his father hated the thought of moving away from the city. He said the city provided you with everything you could need. Booze, whores and fools.

He should know.

Lifting the bottle, he tossed back a swig of the vile smelling stuff. He'd grabbed a bottle from his father's not so hidden stash and brought it here. Here was the only place he'd ever felt safe. In the midst of death, he found peace and a life he could only imagine while he was here.

Here, in his own private playground, he could be anything he wished. He could be a scientist or a doctor. He could be an inventor or an actor. He could be anything. Anything other than the bastard child of the town whore.

He could be anyone other than Ethan Rayne.

Ethan took another drink, staring up at the sky as it faded from blue to purple to black, knowing that he should head home before it got too dark. There had been rumors that people from neighboring towns had been disappearing in the night. His mother hadn't come home last night, as a matter of fact, but neither Ethan nor his father had shown much concern. She disappeared often, when there was enough money involved.

Uncaring, knowing that no one was waiting for him, he placed the bottle to his lips.

"Give me a swig, kid." A tall, blond man sat next to Ethan, keeping in the deepening shadows. "I need it."

Handing over the bottle, Ethan moved away slightly, allowing room for the other man to lean against the broad stump. "Have the rest. It's not sitting well in my stomach."

"Your stomach, kid? Bloody stuff isn't supposed to be for your stomach. It's supposed to numb your mind and your heart so that it stops hurting so much when everything goes wrong." He was silent for a moment. "How old are you?"

"Seven."

"You're old enough to understand then." The blond nodded. "Sometimes, it hurts more than you can bear, doesn't it?"

"All the time."

"Don't worry. It'll get worse." He laughed harshly, taking another drink. "Let me tell you a secret, kid…what's your name?"

"Ethan."

"All right, Ethan. I'll give you this for free. Women have the capability to rip your heart out your chest and feast on it like it was a warm meal. They're cold, heartless creatures themselves, so they don't even notice the pain you suffer as they do it."

"My…my mum, she's the town whore."

"It could be worse, my son. My lover, she's an Angel's whore."

Ethan considered his words, taking the bottle back from him. "All right, you win."

A soft floodlight came on, prompted by the darkness, and lit the area around them. The blond was about to speak when a soft, lilting voice carried out across the dying yard. "Spike?"

"Spike?" Ethan asked softly.

"A nickname. Don't laugh." The blond levered himself up and walked to the doors of the house Ethan had thought deserted. He guided a beautiful brunette out into the garden, setting her on a concrete bench.

She looked like a china doll to Ethan - pale, gorgeous and breakable. He felt drawn to her, losing himself in her blue/green eyes. "Hello, my lady." He didn't know where the formality came from. She simply seemed somewhat royal to him.

"Spike, he thinks I'm a princess." She laughed delicately, but strangely.

Ethan had heard the laugh before. It was tinged with insanity. His mother laughed very much the same. "You look like a princess." Some instinct in his mind pushed at him to flee. Insanity was one thing when you dealt with it in the confines of your own home. It was quite different when it was laced with the dark malice he suddenly sensed in the couple in front of him.

"I'm Spike's princess. Except he doesn't give me all the tea parties I want. He thinks that the dolls should be enough company. But I want someone else to play with. I want a new toy, Spike. One whose heart beats in fear and panic. Can I have him, Spike?"

Ethan leapt to his feet and dashed for the fence, his heart pounding. Suddenly, almost as if he had flown there, the blond was in front of him, his face covered in ridges. "Sorry, lad. What my princess wants, I give to her."

"What are you?"

"Evil." Spike shrugged his shoulders, as if the answer were obvious. "And you're dinner."

"No." Ethan backed up, the fear in his heart disguised by the calm on his face. He had faced his father's drunken wrath. He'd seen the man he thought was supposed to love him deny that he belonged to him. He's seen him come after him with a bottle and a razor strop and escaped with his life. He'd seen his mother, drunk and bleeding, come into his room and ply her trade on her only son. He'd seen evil. And it had nothing to do with the man, or whatever he was, standing in front of him.

"Yes." Spike nodded, admiring the young man's courage. Pity he was going to die. But Spike had learned young vampires didn't last, so there was no turning him.

Ethan ran again, his mind working faster than he thought possible. He knew the blond was behind him, but he didn't know where the brunette was. He looked around, hearing a noise to his left, and found himself sprawled on the ground. The brunette was standing over him, delight in her glowing yellow eyes. "Spike, I want to keep this one for a while. May I?"

"Whatever you wish, princess." He grabbed Ethan under the arms and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, lad. We'll take you to your room."

The brunette stood in front of him as Spike clamped his arms in the manacles that hung from the wall. His feet barely touched the ground and the ache in his arms was already beginning. "I'm Drusilla," she said softly. "What's your name?"

"Ethan."

"Ethan." She said it as though it were a song, trilling it along her tongue. Stepping forward, she touched his face, intending to look into his eyes. Letting him go instantly, she screamed. "Spike!"

Spike caught her as she crumpled, his ridged face glaring in Ethan's direction. "What the hell did you do to her?"

"I…I…Nothing!" Shivers of fear coursed down his spine and he searched his mind frantically for the garden of peace he'd come here to find. He wanted to escape to it as he did when his father beat him or his mother kissed him. He wanted to disappear into himself and not have to worry about anything from the world outside.

Spike led Drusilla to the bed and lay her down. "What is it, love? What did he do? What did you see?"

She sat up finally, hunger in her face. "He's got magic, Spike. Powerful and dangerous. We can't take him. He's going to bring havoc!" She laughed aloud, musically and dementedly. "He's the harbinger of doom for someone we won't like, Spike. He's going to make them all cry."

Spike laughed and lay her back on the bed. Taking the bottle of alcohol from his coat pocket, he got off the bed and walked over to Ethan. "You're one lucky bastard, mate. Her vision saved your life."

"What are you?" He refused to cry, but the tears were there in his large, dark eyes.

"Vampires. Nightmares. Your worst fear made manifest."

Ethan shook his head. "You're not my worst fear. You're not even close."

"Then I pity you, son. Because I'm not going to kill you." He unchained him, offered him the bottle and led him to the back door of the house. "But don't intrude on my generosity too much. Drusilla's likely to change her mind about you."

Ethan stared after him as he closed the door. Taking the half-full bottle, he drained it and tossed it aside. He took one last look around the dying garden and realized he'd lost his safe haven, his place of peace.

He walked home, dejected. He realized he'd lost the playground in his mind.


	5. Giles

1964

The green grass of the meadow seemed to spread out for an eternity. Horses cantered in the nearby field and the young boy sitting on the wooden fence stared at them, completely captivated. He stared longingly at the beautiful roan mare; his green eyes following her every move.

"It's a pretty horse, isn't it?"

He turned, almost falling off the fence. The voice surprised him. Even more surprising was the sight of the small blonde girl wearing a pale pink dress. "Beautiful."

"It belongs to my Great-grandpa. He won't let me ride it. Even with him." She pouted for a brief moment then turned a brilliant smile his direction. "We're having a tea party, would you like to come?"

He nodded, jumping down off the fence and landing next to her. "I like tea."

"I could let you pet the horse. They like it when you pet them on the nose."

"I had a horse. But I had to get rid of it when I moved away from home." He looked at her curiously. "You're not from here."

"No. I'm from 'merica."

"America?" He nodded sagely. "I might go there someday." They started walking; both still watching the horse as it made its way through the pasture. "You here to see your relatives?"

She sighed. "It's no fun at all. There's a bunch of grown ups here and they're talking about all this important stuff, but to me it's just boring. And there aren't any other kids my age. But my Mom promised there'd be some at the tea party."

"How long are you here?"

"Until Friday." She gathered the bottom of her dress in her hands and started running. "Come on! I'll race you to the house!"

He watched her for a long moment, unsure of what to make of the sudden turn of events. Shrugging his shoulders, he took off after her, pumping his arms and legs hard to make up for her head start. Rounding the pasture, he stopped, stunned at the sight before him.

It was a huge castle, hidden in a dense forest of trees. Beautiful, tall, amazing trees shrouded the building from prying eyes. The girl was standing at the gate, her eyes expectant and a little proud. "Its amazing. It's even bigger than the Watcher's retreat."

"The what?"

"Nothing." He colored as he realized he'd spoken out loud. "This is your family's?"

"Well, we're not really related. Mom calls us the poor 'merican relations. She says they only let us come because they feel guilty that we're poor. We're really poor." Sadness filled her blue eyes for a moment, but was quickly replaced with determination. "But I'll show them! I'm gonna be important, you know."

"You are?"

She nodded. Then, with lightning quickness, she changed the subject. "Tea?"

"Tea." He followed her through the wrought iron gate and up to the house. It was made of rough-hewn stone and the gray, imposing façade seemed overwhelming to his young mind. "I can't imagine living here. It would be like living in the past."

Reaching back, the young girl took his hand and pulled him toward the back patio. He barely had time to register all the treasures they passed on their rapid journey through the house. When they stepped out onto the patio, he caught his breath, only to have the sight steal it from him once again.

"It's like a fairy tale."

The flowers were all brilliant, bold colors that seemed to give off a light of their own. To the left was a small pond covered with lily pads and a profusion of bugs dancing across the surface. Standing next to the rippling water were two other children roughly the younger girl's age. She grabbed his hand and led her over to them.

"Did you see?" The other boy asked, pointing out onto the pond. The girl, a pretty redhead, closed her eyes.

"I don't want to see!" She shook her head, her braids flying out in semi-circles around her head as she determinedly kept her eyes closed.

"Sheila doesn't like frogs." The blonde said quietly.

"You don't either Joyce. Don't pretend you're not scared of their big sliminess! You're just pretending because you want to impress LaVelle."

"I told you to call me Vel!" The dark haired boy turned on the redhead, his chocolate brown eyes blazing with anger. He shoved Sheila lightly and she fell onto her bottom.

"Let me help."

She looked at him warily. "Who are you?"

"Me? I'm…I'm…Rupert. I was invited by…Joyce."

The blonde nodded. "My Mommy said I could invite people our age if I found them. And I found him so I brought him."

Sheila accepted his hand and let him help her to her feet. She stuck her tongue out at the other boy. "Thank you. It's nice to know some people can be gentlemen."

Rupert blushed and tried not to notice the jealous look the other boy flashed him as Sheila looped her arm through his and Joyce did the same. "Will you escort us?" Joyce asked quietly.

Looking from the blonde to the redhead, Rupert nodded. "Certainly."

Sheila looked over her shoulder. "You see, Vel. He's polite and he knows big words. You could know big words too if you would pay attention to me at all."

Her remarks fell on deaf ears as Vel's eyes followed Joyce. Rupert glanced at Sheila, noticing the hurt look on her face. It was obvious to him that she had a thing for the other boy and equally obvious that he had no idea or simply chose to ignore her.

They sat silently through tea, listening to the adults all get to know each other and debate the issues of the day with each other. LaVelle wolfed down the majority of the food at the table, amusing both girls as he did so. Rupert felt a slight twinge of jealousy as he watched him flirt. Wondering exactly how he managed to do it so effortlessly, he watched him closely.

Apparently impressing women simply involved stuffing two scones into your mouth at once and letting the jam ooze over your lips.

The adults shooed them away afterwards; all involved in whatever it was that had brought them together for the weekend. Joyce and Sheila grabbed his hands again, although this time LaVelle grabbed Joyce's other hand and kept apace with them. "Where are we going?" Rupert asked.

"You'll see." Sheila laughed as they ran down a dirt path to a tall green hedge. They stepped through another wrought iron gate and into the most remarkable playground Rupert had ever seen.

It was almost like a carnival. There was a small Ferris wheel, a merry go round, a set of swings and a huge sandbox with a sandcastle already built. He stared in amazement, trying to figure out which of the sights he had seen would remain with him the longest.

"Push me?" Sheila had moved over to the swings and was pumping her legs, trying to gain momentum. Rupert stepped behind her and started pushing her, sending her flying high into the air. Her delighted giggles caught Joyce and LaVelle's attention and they ran over to the swings as well. There were only two other swings available. LaVelle stared at the newest member of their group and gestured toward the swing.

"You want?"

"No, thank you." Rupert shook his head and smiled. "I'd rather watch."

Night fell far too quickly as they all played together, building dream worlds and dream castles, weaving fabulous tales as they made memories they knew they'd remember forever.

Rupert sensed the creatures before he saw them and grabbed Sheila. "We need to go inside."

She sensed the tenseness in his voice and nodded. Gathering up the other two, the foursome made their way rapidly back to the house. Rupert guided them inside and grasped the cross he kept in his pocket. He stared through the glass doors as two figures materialized on the edge of the wood, their yellow eyes glowing in the dim moonlight.

A few minutes later, he heard the agonized shriek of the roan horse as it fell to the hunger of the two vampires denied the meal of four young children. And as Rupert made his way home later, he realized that horrible, dying sound was all he could remember from what should have been a wonderful day in the playground.


	6. Janna

1979

She loved to dance. Among her clan, she had learned to move gracefully and erotically to the music since she had learned to walk. The dips and swirls and bends of her legs and back, the sky darkening under her onyx gaze. She was touched, they would whisper when she walked past. She was touched and beloved.

Until her thirteenth year, she stayed with her clan. Later, she would leave and move into a world of high technology, a world of lies and secrets and a place where passion was forbidden. She always knew she would leave someday, she had been spoken over and prophesied about. She had even seen herself, because she had a touch of foresight. She knew that she alone would be responsible for fulfilling the curse, making sure that one who still lived would suffer.

But that didn't matter to her, not until much, much later. Because at that time, she was happy dancing.

Her relatives and friends would watch her as she danced, and sometimes she loved being stared at and appreciated, even at her tender age. Had she been staying with her family, she might have been married before her sixteenth year, but that was also not the case. She would dance for them in front of the nightly fire and proclaim in song her intentions and love of nature and they would applaud her and she adored the attention. They always gave her attention.

Because she was the Chosen.

But sometimes, just sometimes, she liked being alone as well. She would awake in the middle of the night from a dream of a man with green eyes-- always green eyes-- and she would slide past the sleeping form of her mother into the forest. She would walk and walk until she reached the small clearing, a small meadow that she had played in when she was just a child, when she didn't understand what "responsibility" meant. And there was so much responsibility then.

And she would reach the meadow and she would stand in the middle of it in her bare feet and loose white gown and she would look up at the stars for a long time. She was once told that the stars loved her, and she returned the emotion. For wherever she was, the stars followed; Wherever she went, they would come. She loved them with all the passion in her young and tender heart, and she would sing to them, spinning around until they were dizzy from watching her.

She had other dreams, too. Dreams of girls with red hair and blond, of a man who she wept for who had dark eyes. Dreams of laughing with a dark haired boy and smiling with the red haired girl and redeeming life for the girl with blond hair. She dreamed of listening to music, dancing close, dining on a blanket in summer. She dreamed of faraway lands and terrifying chances and the beauty of souls. She dreamed of the wonder of friendship.

But one summer of her life, everything changed. She had just crossed the threshold of womanhood, she begot her thirteenth year and was leaving in a fortnights time. The dreams of green eyes came to her much more often, every night since the anniversary of her birth, and every night she would go to the meadow to meet with him, to see him. And every night she would walk back, her heart empty and pining for the touch of this man whom she had not met.

Until the last.

She walked into the clearing, her hair shining and falling down her back in soft curls, her eyes glittery by the light of the moon. She walked and stood and began spinning, singing to the stars that loved her for the last time. And then she stopped, because she sensed him, sensed the one who had been haunting her dreams since... forever.

She turned, and smiled. He was standing there, watching her hotly, taking in her state of dress with a fevered glance. He was perhaps twenty-one years, but that didn't bother her. Her sister had married a man twenty years her senior when she turned fifteen.

The man began walking forward, hushed, stealthily, and laid a hand on her shoulder. "What's your name?" he asked huskily, with a voice from another country.

"Janna," she replied, her own voice mildly accented but clear and strong and open. "Who are you, who has been in my dreams?"

He seemed startled and licked his lips thoughtfully. "I- I.. I am... What do you mean that I've been in your dreams?"

She tried to answer honestly, knowing that after that night, no honesty would ever be allowed again. "Because you have been, many nights over the years of my life. Your lips," she traced her fingertips over his lips and then let them travel to his brow, "and your eyes... My heart has waited for you. A man from afar. Where are you from?"

His eyes twinkled merrily, his teeth flashing in a quick grin. " England," he responded warmly. "You are a beautiful dancer, Janna," he murmured, his eyes wandering over her face in a way that gave her chills. "You look at home in this playground that nature has presented you."

She nodded solemnly. "I am. It is my home. As you are my home, in so many ways." And then she gave him her smile, and he seemed startled yet again, bringing his hand up over his heart.

His eyes watched her. "Would you dance for me?"

She lifted her head. "I would die for you, England," she said quietly, honesty astounding in that simple, open declaration. Janna moved to the center of the field and locked her eyes on his as she began moving her body, a lithe, sinuous body firmed by years of dances upon dances. She lifted her arms and dipped them, danced around him in a circle, and could feel the stars smile, could feel England's heart beat. After barely moments, she moved quietly into his embrace, and tried not to think that tomorrow she would be leaving him and all she loved.

As if sensing her hidden sadness, he enclosed her in his arms and kissed her temple tenderly, wondering at this young girl who moved him so quickly, who touched his heart in so many ways after he had sworn that as one who was running from duty, he would never love. She lifted her head and pinned him with a gaze that was shimmering with new tears.

"How did you come to be here?"

He was surprised, but nodded, conceding that she should know of him. "I was... Running from my life. I am sleeping near the stream, and working on some.. Developments with some friends of mine," he answered delicately, trying not to pull her into a world of so many evils. She shook her head, raven hair falling over her face.

"No. How did you come to be *here*? With me... In our... Playground?" Janna clarified.

Rupert smiled gently as they swayed together with the wind and the treetops and the long grass and lowers swaying beside them. "I woke up... I was dreaming of a girl with black eyes, your eyes, and I walked until I found what I had dreamed."

Janna nodded and lifted her mouth to his in a fiercely sweet kiss, a warm and tender kiss that hurt her heart even before she pulled away from it. "I love you, England. I'll never forget you."

He was shaken by the intensity of both the kiss and the responsive feelings he felt towards her. Thinking only a moment, he answered, "I love you too, Janna." He brushed away a tear that spilled down her cheek and smiled. "And why would you forget me? I plan to take you with me where ever I go."

She shook her head, tugging feebly to get out of his arms, arms that were as dangerous as they were safe. "I... I am not Janna," she murmured, choking on the words that had to leave her mouth. "I am to leave here, and cannot take you with me. I have a destiny, a duty."

His voice was gravely serious. "Duty doesn't matter. And what if your destiny is with me? I love..."

His protests were lost; by that time she finally scrambled out of his arms. She only looked back at him once as she disappeared into the forest, only let her eyes linger on his face, a face that she knew so well, once more lest her will fail her and she followed her heart.

When she left the following morning, she began her life anew. It was almost easy, comforting to forget her other life, a life of secrets and untold desires for normalcy and love. She would never be normal, she would never have love. The dreams stopped coming, and she began to forget the red hair and the blond, the dark, twinkling eyes and the deep, sad ones. Later, the memories faded entirely, and all she was left with was an empty feeling of lingering sadness for having to give up love for duty and wept for those who had to endure the same. In time, all she remembered were small pieces of the love she once felt.

Like green eyes and stars and lonely playgrounds.


	7. Buffy

1987

She liked to daydream. She would sit on the swing in the park next to her house and fly higher and higher and higher, scissoring her legs, ready to touch the clouds. She learned later that she could never touch the clouds, but until she knew that, she tried so hard. She wanted wings.

Her honey-brown hair would stream out behind her as she went up down, and finally her mommy would call her down, say that they were going home. So she would drag her feet in the sand to slow herself down the tiniest bit, and then leap off as the swing shot forward again. A long way she would fly, stretching her arms out, a sparkle in her young eyes. And then she would land, and things would be the same as they were before the flying, before the swing.

She would always take her mommy's hand, because she loved her mommy, and they would walk home together, to their big home down the street, with lots of rooms and a pool she had learned to swim in years ago, when she could barely talk.

Her mommy would dust the sand out of her clothes before dinner, and would brush the leaves and dirt out of her hair as she sat on the floor, in her mommy's lap. The brush always felt so good, and she would tell her mommy that. Her mommy would always reply with the same answer.

"It's probably the one thing about me that you'll remember when you grow up, Buffy. So I try to make it a good memory," she would say. And Buffy would nod happily, the brush ever stroking her hair, and whisper back.

"It's already a good memory, Mommy," she would tell her. And her mommy's breath would catch and Buffy would feel really warm inside, like tiny fuzzy things had made a home in her heart. She liked her mommy.

And then they would go and eat dinner, and her daddy would be there. He was a tall man and when she would look up and him, he would have to lean down to meet her shining eyes and he would ruffle her hair and call her "Pumpkin." She loved him, too. And her mommy would smile at her daddy and lean over to kiss him. Buffy loved it when her parents were as happy as she was all the time. But every now and then, just sometimes, she would sit in her room at bedtime, and listen to the screams.

The screams didn't come very often, then. But when they did come, she would cry and wish that they would never ever come again. They scared her and made her feel unsafe in her own room. Her mommy's voice would rise and Buffy would be able to hear tears in her words, and her daddy would be shouting about things Buffy didn't understand. She hated the screams that she heard beyond her walls.

And one night, Buffy's mommy stole into her room after the screams, and woke Buffy up, touching the little, tearstained face with regret. Buffy looked up blearily, to see her mommy crying and she reached out to be enveloped in a hug that was as sad as it was warm.

Her mommy put her finger to her lips and shushed her and Buffy nodded, scared and curious as her mommy began to skitter around the room, putting some of Buffy's clothes into a small black bag. When she was done, her mommy took Buffy's hand and led her quietly down the stairs to the car. Buffy was silent, too afraid to talk, too afraid to ask any of the questions about her daddy that were flying through her head.

They drove forever, and finally Buffy's nervous alertness faded and she fell asleep, curled up into a little ball, a blanket tucked neatly around her. She sucked her thumb in her sleep, something she had not done in years, but then she had never left her house in the middle of the night, so a part of her brain whispered that it was okay.

When she woke up, it was daytime and she looked around the hotel room that her mommy had carried her into. Her mommy lay next to her, her eyes wide open, but her face still and Buffy was scared again for a moment before her mommy looked at her and gave her a shaky smile.

The question flew out of Buffy's mouth. "What are we doing here, Mommy?"

And her mommy shushed her and kissed her hair and Buffy felt almost safe again, not noticing that her mommy had refused to answer the question. Lifting Buffy up, her mommy quickly laid out some clothes for Buffy and Buffy got into them, thinking of another way she could find out what she was wondering.

Buffy paused, trying another tack, "*Where* are we, Mommy?"

Her mommy sighed and shook her head. "A town called Sunnydale."

Buffy's eyes lit-- she liked the name, it sounded friendly-- and she smiled. "How long are we going to stay here for?"

Her mommy shook her head and sighed again, a deeper, sadder sound than before. "I don't know, Baby. Mommy can't tell you that for sure."

Buffy's smile dropped and her mommy, noticing this, smiled brightly to cheer up her daughter. "But there's a nice park just a block away. I thought you might like to go there with me, ride on the swings?"

Buffy slowly nodded, her eyes large and serious and they left the little room and began walking. Soon they were there, and Buffy saw that her mommy was right, it was a very nice playground. It had swings and a slide and a big sand box and a merry go round. It even had a teeter totter, but Buffy barely glanced at that because she had no one to play with.

Letting go of her mommy's hand, she ran over to the swings, and leapt on them with the ferocity of a baby tiger. Her mommy watched her, sitting on a nearby bench, and finally pulling out a book to read while Buffy played. Buffy began kicking her legs to go higher and higher and higher, but something caught her eye and she stopped.

A little girl and a little boy had entered the park, holding hands. The little girl had hair as red as Buffy had ever seen, and the little boy's face was smudged with dirt, his dark hair falling over his eyes. Buffy smiled at this: Maybe one of them would push her on the swings or, better yet, play on the teeter totter with her.

Hopping off the swing neatly, she walked over to them. They boy gave her a big smile, but the girl looked at her a little cautiously, only smiling when Buffy did. The little boy stuck out a sticky hand, the way Buffy's daddy did when meeting a new grownup and Buffy was delighted with the turn of events. She claimed the sticky hand in her own, and shook it firmly.

The boy grinned. "I'm Xander. This is my friend Willow," he introduced, nodding his head toward the girl. She nodded shyly and Buffy leaned over to hug her, like she had seen her mommy do with her friends. And Buffy so wanted to be friends.

"Would you... Would you like to play with us?" Willow asked, almost whispering. Buffy nodded eagerly and they ran off to the swings, Xander taking turns pushing the girls.

Buffy decided they were both her new best friends, if she and her mommy were going to be there for a long time. Xander was really funny-- he told stories about an "evil" girl named Cordelia-- and Willow was really smart. They were both nice to her, and Buffy liked the way their eyes twinkled.

Buffy noticed another boy, a little older than them, with dark red hair sitting in the sand box a little ways away, and she waved to him. He just smiled and didn't wave back, but that was okay with Buffy. She figured that if they were there long enough, he would eventually come over and talk to them. Some people were shy.

As she flew higher into the air, she had daydreamed. She thought of being a grownup and still being friends with Willow and Xander, because they were so nice, and she thought of her husband and her life as a grownup. Her daddy had blue eyes, and she always liked blue but she couldn't stop imagining dark eyes, sad eyes that were warm, and a warm hug and warm kisses and happily ever after, never with any screaming.

These thoughts made her sad, and she leapt from the swing, mid-flight, executing a neat somersault in the air. When she turned around, both Willow and Xander were looking at her with big eyes and she smiled and shrugged. She had been able to do that since she learned out to swing. All of the kids at the old playground were used to seeing her fly and land without getting hurt.

Xander finally broke the silence. "Are you... I mean do you.." he trailed off, uncertain.

Willow took over for him, her voice small but friendly, her eyes warm. "Do you take gymnastics?"

Buffy shook her head, her hair tumbling in her face. "No, I just can do stuff like that sometimes," she explained. "Want me to push you guys on the merry go round?"

They nodded eagerly and piled on. Buffy steadied herself and then began pushing, spinning around faster and faster until Xander was laughing and Willow was shrieking happily before she hopped on. It seemed like the ride went forever, but it didn't, and all too soon were they slowing and stopping.

Her mommy called her over and Buffy gave her new friends a smile before obediently trotting over to see her. "Mommy?"

Her mommy's face was firm, but sad. She gathered Buffy into her lap. "Honey, we're going home. I was thinking about it, and I was wrong to take you away like that. Your daddy is probably missing you and scared and... I miss him too." Her mommy gulped and Buffy had to blink back sudden tears at seeing her mommy so sad. "So, why don't you go tell your new friends goodbye, and we'll go back home and see your daddy?" her mommy finished.

Buffy nodded, not wanting to leave her friends, but wanting to see her daddy very much. She jumped off her mommy's lap and walked over to Xander and Willow, sighing.

"My mommy and me are leaving," she told them sadly. "So I have to say goodbye now."

Xander looked sort of mad at Buffy's mommy, and Willow looked stricken. She reached out and touched Buffy's hand lightly. "Do you have to?" she whispered. Buffy nodded, a tear escaping and spilling down her cheek. She swiped at it angrily. She hated it when she cried in front of other people.

Xander's mouth was stretched into a white line and Buffy was worried what he was going to say. But instead of saying anything, he swooped forward and hugged her really hard for a long time. Willow joined in the hug after a minute, and Buffy wondered why she felt so, so sad at leaving these kids who she had known for less than a day. She hugged them back though, and finally turned away to see her mommy and the other boy watching them with interest. Whispering goodbye to Xander and Willow, she walked back to her mommy and her mommy lifted her into her arms and held her extra tight as she carried her back to the hotel room.

Her mommy quickly packed their things and called Buffy's daddy, telling him that she was sorry and that they were coming home. Buffy walked to the car with a sort of numb feeling and crawled into the front seat. She fell asleep quickly.

When she woke up, she was back at home and in her own bed and the light of the day was dimming. She looked around, wondering if it had all been a dream, wondering if there were actually two people in the world that she could like so much that liked her back.

The screams didn't come that night, and Buffy was grateful. Slowly putting it out of her mind, everyday she visited her own playground as the years passed. Sometimes her heartbeat would speed up with a memory long forgotten and she would sit on the swings, almost melancholy for something that she missed and ached for.

But at least the playground stayed the same.


	8. Xander

1987

Xander pulled his blanket up over his head, stifling his tears as he heard grumbling come from down the hall. Poking his head out just a little bit, he looked at his Snoopy clock and cringed. The big hand moved to the twelve and the bell in his mommy and daddy's room rang.

The sound shot through his head like needles, amplified by his daddy's loud curse. Leaning over the edge of his bunk, he looked down at the bottom bed, seeing Willow's wide green eyes staring up at him. Her face had a sickly pallor, much like his own. "You okay?"

"Xander, I feel sick."

"Me too, Wills." He managed to slide off his bed and hit the floor without crying out. Lifting the sheet up, he slid into the bed next to Willow and pulled her into his arms. "The room's spinnin' like the merry go round."

"My tummy feels like I ated too many ice creams. Only not that good." She rested her head on his shoulders, her heart beating wildly. "I don't think we should go to the park today."

"Did you barf?"

"No." She shook her head a little, then moaned as her stomach lurched in response. "Not yet. Did you?"

"Twice. I made it to the bathroom both times though." He smiled proudly, pleased when Willow did the same. "But I got some on my jammies." He frowned then, looking down at his bare chest. "Mommy's gonna find out and I'm gonna be in trouble."

A loud shout came from the living room and Xander moved closer to his best friend. Willow was his only safe haven now, as his daddy sent his bedroom door slamming into the wall. "Alexander Goddamn Harris! You get in my booze again?" He held up the bottle of gin Xander and Willow had emptied the night before then threw it at the wall near the head of the bed. "Damn it, boy, I'm gonna…"

His wife's hand stopped his from heading to grab their son out of the bed. "Willow's here."

"What kind of son do I have that he has a girl protect him? I tell you," his voice faded some as he stormed back into the living room. "One of these days, that little girl isn't gonna be able to save his ass from the beating I'm going to give him."

Willow stared down at her hand that Xander was clutching tightly. She could tell from the stiffness of his body that he was trying not to cry. "Don't worry, Xander. I'm not ever gonna go anywhere. I'll always be here for you." She turned her head slightly and, her heart like a wild thing in her chest, kissed him softly on his cheek. "Let's go to the park today?"

"I don't feel like playing, Willow. My room won't stop spinning and I don't feel good."

Knowing that if she didn't get him to leave his room, his father would come back and make him cry, Willow pouted. "Please Xander? You know I'm scared to go alone."

Bravery winning out over his sadness, Xander smiled at her. "All right, Wills. I'll go. But I'm not gonna play and I'm not gonna have fun."

"Okay. Maybe the girl with the sunshine hair will be there again." Her eyes brightened as she thought of their new friend that they'd met the day before. "She said she'd come back and play with us."

"I don't need another girl for a friend, Willow. All I need is you."

A rosy blush covered her cheeks. "Still, she was nice."

"Nicer than Cordelia."

Willow frowned at the sound of their enemy. "Cordelia won't be there. She has her own sandbox and swings at home."

"Well, let's get ready to go then." Xander shoved the covers down to the end of the bed and clamored out. "But no merry go round. Maybe just the teeter-totter."

***  
A small group of kids was huddled around the swings, so Xander took Willow's hand tight in his and started toward them. His head still pounded from the horrible stuff he and Willow had shared the night before, but he was determined to know what the excitement was.

He heard her before he saw her. Cordelia.

He tried to steer Willow to a different side of the park, since he knew that she was Cordelia's favorite target. But Willow tugged on his hand. "Buffy might still be here."

"She was going home to her Dad, Willow."

"I wanna see."

He followed behind her, his eyes worried. Willow was going to get hurt by Cordelia someday and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop it. She was mean and she didn't care what she said to people.

"Oh look," Cordelia's voice took on a hint of laughter as Willow walked closer. "It's the twins. Why don't Xander's parents just adopt you Willow? I mean, your parents are never around. They probably don't even want you. Not that I blame them."

The tight grip on Xander's hand loosened as Willow tore away from him and ran off. Cordelia laughed and walked away, her group of friends following close behind. The pain in his head pushed aside, Xander stormed after Cordelia, grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the nearby bushes.

"Hey!"

"You apologize to Willow right now!"

"I don't have to apologize to your *girlyfriend*." Cordelia smirked. "Nobody wants her. Except maybe you. And that's pretty bad."

"You're so mean," his brown eyes flashed angrily. "But one day, you're gonna see, Miss Snotty, that you're just like the rest of us!"

"I'll never be like you, Alexander Harris." She shook off the hand that he'd placed on her arm. "And don't touch me. I don't need boy cooties."

"You're gonna get 'em anyways!" He grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her to him, smooshing his lips against hers. He pulled back finally, his face scrunched up in distaste. "Yeeech."

"You…you…jerk." Cordelia wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and stuck her tongue out at him. "I hate you. And I hate her! And I hate both of you!" Turning on her heel, she stormed away, still wiping her lips.

Xander watched her go for a long time, until she was at the edge of the park. Suddenly realizing that he'd left Willow alone for all this time, he shook his head and started back toward the swings. She wasn't there and he knew he'd have to find her.

With one last look back at the bushes, Xander started off, wondering which of her hiding places Willow was using.

Long after he'd found Willow and even long after all of the arguments were forgotten, Xander and Willow would come back to the park and play every game imaginable. They bonded in their mutual hatred for their natural enemy - Cordelia and vowed to be friends forever.

But every once in a while, he'd stare off into the bushes and lose himself in another moment. After a while, the moment itself was gone, but the memory of something new and strange lingered.

At least, until they stopped coming to the playground


	9. Willow

1987

"Did you see her fly?"

The soft voice startled Willow. Nobody knew about her most secretest place, not even Xander. But here, where no one was supposed to find her, was someone she didn't even know. "See who fly?"

"The girl. The girl with the hair like sunshine."

"Buffy!" Willow's smile lit up her whole face. "I thought it was like sunshine too!" Moving over just a bit, she allowed him to crawl into the small hole under the tree and lay next to her. "You're gonna get dirty."

"It's okay."

"Do…do you live here?" She bit her lower lip and smiled meekly. Her Mommy and Daddy had told her not to talk to strangers, but she was pretty sure they just meant grown-up ones. "How old are you?"

"Eight."

A whole year older. Willow frowned, her forehead crinkling. He was almost a grown up.

"I don't."

"Don't?" Her green eyes were wide. "Don't what?"

"Live here. Not all the time."

She studied him for a long minute, watching his cool, green eyes. "But sometimes?"

"I'm visiting my Mom." He watched the look of confusion cross her face. "I live somewhere else. With my Dad. I'm just here to see my Mom for a week."

"Oh." Tilting her head, she looked away from him out at the grass. He was quiet, which was quite a change from Xander. Normally, she couldn't get Xander to stop talking, even when she was being serious and playing doctor. He hadn't even learned to say the name of the disease she'd diagnosed him with. "Do you talk a lot?"

"No. Only when it's important." He followed her gaze and watched as butterflies landed on the flowers nearby. "Who was that girl?"

"Buffy. She's my new friend. Or she was, but now she's gone. She had to go home to her Daddy." She brightened as she figured something out. "Like you." The happiness faded immediately. "Oh, only that means you have to go and so I'm going to lose my other new friend. Are we friends?"

He laughed softly and nodded. "Yeah."

"Good." She looked down at the ground. "Do…do you want to meet Xander? He's my best friend. I'm gonna marry him someday."

"You are?"

Willow was surprised by the sad tone of his voice. "Yeah. We promised each other. We even…" she wrinkled her nose. "Well, he made me kiss him. On the lips."

"Was it horrible?"

Blushing profusely, Willow shook her head. "Not too horrible." She had a little trouble with the word and laughed, a soft, feather-light sound. "What's your name?"

"You can't laugh."

"I won't laugh."

Watching her eyes, he nodded. "Oz."

"Oh! Oh! Like the story!" She smiled widely. "I love those books. Xander'll only watch the movie, but I read the books and I love them and I want to be Dorothy someday, but the Good Witch is my favorite!" The words tumbled out of her in a hurried rush. "Why did you think I would laugh?"

"It's not a normal name."

"I like it. I have a Buffy friend and an Oz friend. And a Xander friend." Willow thought for a moment. "All my friends have kind of strange names."

"What's yours?"

"Willow."

"Nice to meet you, Willow."

"Nice to meet you too." She smiled. "Now you have a friend with a strange name."

"I think it's beautiful." A deep blush crept up his face, and he turned away. "I think you're beautiful."

"You know, when I told you Xander made me kiss him?"

Oz nodded, his face serious. Willow got the impression that something inside him didn't like the thought of her kissing her best friend. "Yeah."

"And you remember how I said it wasn't horrible?"

He nodded again, wondering where she was going with her words. "I remember."

"I think…I was…I…" she gave up on words and kissed him, pressing her lips tightly to his. She pulled back quickly, giggling and gasping for breath at the same time. She was about to say something when she heard Xander calling her name. Looking at Oz, she bit her lower lip again. "That's Xander. I have to go. Please don't tell him that I kissed you! He thinks we're boyfriend and girlfriend and he wouldn't like it. Promise?"

"I promise." They both wriggled out from the hiding place, brushing dirt off their clothes. Oz watched her as she turned around and started off in the direction of Xander's voice. Once she'd gone a ways, he turned to walk home. Willow called his name, and he turned around in time to have her run into him.

They collapsed on the ground together and she giggled again. "I forgot to say goodbye." She hugged him tightly. "I won't forget you."

"I won't forget you either. Ever."

She got up and ran off, waving her hand in the air. Once he was out of sight, she stopped at one of the big trees and leaned against it. Taking her house key out of her pocket, she found a small branch, hidden from the world by all the other foliage. With great care, she etched the word "Oz" into the wood. She'd remember her new friends for always.

"Willow?"

Xander's voice was now sounding worried, so she started off in his direction. She was going to marry him some day and Oz and Buffy could be in their wedding. Maybe they'd fall in love and then the four of them could get married together. And when Xander wanted to swing, he could go out with Buffy and she and Oz would hide in the trees and talk or even not talk for hours.

With that happy thought, Willow ran the rest of the way back to Xander. He smiled when he saw her, his brown eyes losing some of their fear. "Where were you?"

"Oz."

"You and your crazy books, Will." He hugged her tightly. "Ready to go home? My dad should be gone and we'll be able to watch cartoons. And I bet Mom left some ice cream for us. Or Twinkies."

"Xander, you're going to turn into a Twinkie, if you eat any more of them." She pretended to scold him, using the words her own mother often used on him when he came over to her house. "And then you won't be able to play with me ever again." Sadness tinged his eyes and she immediately was sorry for her words. "I'm sorry Xander. I didn't mean it. We'll play together forever."

"Nothing can come between us, right Wills?" He held out his hand to her, smiling widely as she took it.

"Nothing and nobody." She agreed, entangling her fingers with his. The happiness of just being with Xander again and forgetting about all the horrible things Cordelia always said, dimmed the memory of the wonderful friends she'd made. But she knew, even if she never saw them again, she'd always have a place for them in her heart.

"I love you, Wills."

"I love you too, Xander."

They headed home, leaving the playground behind.


	10. Oz

1987

He wasn't close to a lot of people, like other kids were. Oh, they usually liked him, but he wasn't friends with anyone special. He didn't know anyone that special. Sometimes he saw a person, and thought he might like to be their friend, but never really got the chance. Or, when he tried to make friends, they didn't like him because he was usually quiet, and didn't say a lot.

His whole life changed, though, that summer when he went to visit his mom for a week.

She lived in a town called Sunnydale, and it was a long drive from Nevada, where his dad lived. His parents called him a "pretty neat kid." He guessed there were worse things. His dad and mom lived in two different states because they were divorced, which meant that they didn't love each other like they used to and didn't want to be in the same house. But they were still friend, which Oz was grateful for.

He didn't get to see his mom as much as he liked to, but that was okay because she made up for it when he *did* visit her. They would play games, and she would tell him that he could walk around town as much as he liked and make friends. He always walked, but didn't make any friends. And it wasn't until that one day on the playground that he saw some kids he wanted to be friends with.

He was sitting on the edge of the sandbox, half-heartedly drawing instruments in the sand with his fingers, and listening to the music in his head when a little girl with sunlight for hair walked into the park with her mom. Her mom sat down and started to read a book, and the little girl ran for the swings, going higher than Oz had ever seen, faster than he had ever seen it done.

He watched her for a while, trying to decide whether or not to go over and join her. She looked younger than him, but Oz didn't think that would matter. But, just as he was thinking that he would, someone else caught his eyes.

In reality, it was two someone else's, but he was too busy staring and the girl with red hair to notice the boy standing next to her. The little girl hopped off her swing and ran toward them, and Oz was a little sad for some reason. He saw the girl introduce herself, and finally took a look at the little boy shaking her hand. He had dirt on his face and brown hair and a big smile. He didn't look too bad. After assessing him, Oz let his eyes slide back over to the other girl, the one with red hair, the one who was slowly smiling at the girl with sunshine for hair. Fire and Sunshine, Oz thought, grinning to himself.

He continued to quietly stare at them as they bolted for the swings, and had a funny feeling watching the boy push the red-haired girl, a sad feeling that Oz wasn't used to and didn't like. He thought the red-haired girl was pretty, very pretty, and even from the sandbox, he could see that she had very big, green eyes.

The group of kids were laughing and shrieking, and a few times, he heard the little girl say something funny or smart. After a while, though, Sunshine-- he picked the name because he didn't know what else to call her-- waved to him, but he just nodded and smiled, still watching them, not sure if he should interrupt. A few minutes later, Sunshine leapt from her swing and did a somersault in the air, landing perfectly without getting hurt at all. His mouth dropped open. She had been flying.

They played on the merry go round for a little while, and then Sunshine had to go, it seemed, because she gave Fire and Dirt big hugs and left with her mom. Fire was crying, Oz realized a minute later, and because his chest hurt at watching her, he started to edge in her direction. Almost there, he stopped, seeing Dirt gather his friend into his arms and lead her away. Oz heard her saying something and listened really closely.

"She was gonna be my friend, Xand," she sniffled. Oz liked the soft sound of her voice, even though it was sad. The boy just nodded and held her hand and they walked out of the park together.

It was two days later before he saw any of them again. He was sitting on one of the swings, trying to figure out how Sunshine had flown that far and high without getting hurt, when he saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye. He turned to look, and saw the girl with red hair slipping quickly under a hole in a tree. Hole?

He hopped off the swing and walked over, getting on his knees to look into the hole that was partly covered by a bush. Seeing her, lying there, all alone in the middle of this hollow tree, Oz felt a rush of something that he wasn't used to. It was something that he had never really felt before, so he couldn't explain it. And, suddenly, he couldn't think of a thing to say.

He gazed at her for a minute, so still and pretty, and thought that maybe he should introduce himself, or tell her that he wanted to be her friend or something else that was as smart as she looked, but he didn't. Instead, he blurted out the first thing he could think of.

"Did you see her fly?"

The girl turned, startled out of whatever she had been thinking about, and looked at him for a moment, blankly. Oz was about to leave because she was being so quiet, but finally she spoke, and her voice was soft and feathery. "See who fly?"

"The girl," Oz clarified, clearing his throat. "The girl with hair like sunshine."

Understanding lit her face and she nodded. "Buffy! I thought it was like sunshine, too!" Oz was pleased that she sounded so happy, and was even more pleased when she scooted over to make room for him in the hollow tree. He crawled in and settled himself beside her. "You're gonna get all dirty," she warned.

"It's okay," he said, and it was. As long as he was talking to her, anything was okay. They talked for a long time, but it seemed short to Oz, too short. He told her that his name was Oz, and when she heard it, she didn't laugh like most kids, but was excited over the stories that his name was in. And when he learned her name, Willow, he thought it was beautiful and told her so.

He blushed immediately after, and couldn't help mumbling something else. "I think you're beautiful."

Oz knew he shouldn't be saying these things, because Willow already had a boyfriend who she kissed and stuff and was going to marry, but looked at her happy face and was glad that he had said them anyway. Almost like she was inside his head, she spoke again.

"You know, when I told you Xander made me kiss him?" she asked softly, blushing.

Oz nodded, not liking the subject. He was jealous of the other boy, and it made him feel bad to be jealous, but he was. Already, Oz knew that *he* wanted to marry Willow, that he didn't want *Xander* to be kissing her. "Yeah."

"And you remember how I said it wasn't horrible?" she questioned. He nodded, not knowing why she was saying all this.

"I remember."

"I think... I was... I..." Willow stumbled around her words, which Oz thought was cute, and then, taking him by surprise, leaned over and put her mouth on his.

It was his first kiss, and though he knew that grown-ups liked doing it, he finally understood why. After a stunned numbness, he kissed her back, and his heart exploded with soft feelings, making him feel hot and cold and scared and strong at the same time. And then she pulled back and he wanted to kiss her again, but she was breathing hard and smiling shyly and looking at him in a way that made his heart pound, so he didn't.

He was upset when she said that she heard Xander calling, but he didn't say anything because he didn't want to make her mad at him. So they crawled out from underneath the tree and stood, brushing their clothes off.

Oz turned away to walk home, deciding to remember everything for as long as he lived, when he heard her calling his name. He turned, not knowing what to expect, and gave her a huge smile when he saw her running towards him. She threw herself in his arms and hugged him for a really long time, and he hugged her back, proclaiming that he wouldn't ever forget. Because, of course, how could he?

When he came back the next day, Willow wasn't there, and he felt sad over leaving all over again. He didn't know if he would ever see her again, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't remember, right? She had the prettiest eyes and hair and he was being honest when he said she was beautiful. She was beautiful to him.

He walked over to the tree they had been inside and looked at it for a long, long time. Just as he was about to leave, though, something caught his eye. There, scratched in, was his name. Oz grinned, suddenly and openly, loving the girl he had only met the day before.

He left the day after, without getting to see her again, but he guessed that it was okay. She wouldn't forget him, and he wouldn't forget her, and maybe she wouldn't marry Xander after all.

Over time, he forgot the details. The red hair, the impish eyes, the soft voice, the kiss. He forgot the name, but always held an image in his mind of the perfect girl, the person that he wanted to be with, not remembering that he had met her. And he didn't remember that it was she who had changed his life, she who had taken his heart for the first time.

But he always held a fondness for that playground.


	11. Cordelia

1987

She was a princess. She had a big pool and lots of friends and was the prettiest girl in the world, her daddy said. She had big, dark eyes, expressive eyes, her mother called them and shining dark hair that fell down her back. Her mother wanted her to be a child-model, whatever that was, but she was just fine staying herself.

Which made her mother mad, but not her daddy. He liked spending time with her. For a long time after she was born, the first seven years of her life, he liked spending time with her, it seemed. Later it changed, but then she was happy and friendly.

To most kids. Some kids weren't worth the taxes that paid for their schooling. She didn't understand that, either, but her mother said it often, and Cordelia agreed. Some kids were stupid and didn't have pools and didn't have a wonderful daddy with lots of money like hers did. Some kids only had one friend, and Cordelia had lots. Some kids said mean things to her. Only after she said mean things to them, of course, but they deserved it, she figured. They were not as special as her.

When she was very, very little, she had tried to make friends with almost everybody. But her mother didn't like that. Cordelia was only supposed to be friends with kids who were "influential" and "socialites to be." There was a lot Cordelia didn't understand for a long time.

For her sixth birthday, her daddy said that she could do anything, have her party anywhere. Cordelia giggled at how surprised he looked when she named the park that rested between the good neighborhood and the less good neighborhood. He leaned down, ruffling her hair with his big hand.

"Why there, honey?" he asked, grinning indulgently.

She looked up at him, smiling. "They just got new swings. Harmony told me. And a new slide and merry go round. I saw a movie with a birthday party in a park and I liked it." She tugged on his arm. "Please, Daddy?"

He looked down at her with a soft smile and she knew she had just won. Her daddy loved her more than he loved anything, he would do anything for her. Lifting her into his arms, he threw her high into the air and she squealed with delight as her hair flew up behind her. He caught her safely and then hugged her, and Cordelia snuggled into his familiar arms. "Of course, Princess," he said with a smile. "I said anything you wanted."

Setting her down on the ground, he patted her head and then cocked his head to the side, thinking. He got a serious look on his face, and Cordelia was afraid that he was changing his mind. She tugged on his arm again. "Daddy?"

"Yes, Princess, it's all right. I just hope you don't mind that this is a public park, and not something like our country club where only certain people can come. And you already have your own swings and sandbox. Anyone who wants to be at the park during your party can be," he explained.

Cordelia wrinkled her brow-- she didn't like the sound of that-- and thought about it for a moment. After a second, she nodded and shrugged, a slow, cat-like smile dawning on her face. "But we don't have to let them have cake, right? We can keep the cake for my friends," she said, almost certain.

Her daddy laughed almost sadly and then finally nodded. "Of course, Cordelia. But you may want to remember that it's good to share," he mentioned.

Cordelia shook her head. "That's not what mother says."

Her daddy sighed and then brushed her forehead with a kiss. When he spoke, his voice sounded funny to her, like he was saying serious words but not meaning them. She didn't know why. "Well, by all means, we must obey your mother, mustn't we?"

Cordelia nodded solemnly, and her daddy laughed again, the strange look from his face gone. Her mother could be mean sometimes, smoking long cigarettes and not letting Cordelia in unless it was to say something that always started with, "In the future..."

Cordelia didn't care about the future. She only cared about now.

On the morning of her sixth birthday, she woke up excited and happy. The sun was pouring through her window, and it was a warm day and the birds were singing. She always liked waking up like that. Even her mother was nice to her when she went down for breakfast, bestowing a cool, gentle kiss on Cordelia's cheek and sipping orange juice with her and her daddy for almost twenty minutes before heading back upstairs. She even invited Cordelia up to her room for some beauty tips.

Cordelia loved days like this, where she was the center of attention. She later told her mother how much she liked birthdays and her mother laughed for a moment, not sounding happy at all. Brushing Cordelia's face with a soft, cool hand, she looked at her daughter seriously for a moment.

"One day, dear... One day you won't love birthdays so much. And you'll see that I was right about most things I told you," she said. Cordelia didn't care about that. Right now she liked birthdays, and that was all that mattered, she figured.

When they got to the park later, she was pleased to see the pretty decorations that her daddy had had put up, the big pink streamers from one tree to another, the huge white and pink cake on one of the picnic tables. She looked up at her daddy with huge, happy eyes. "Oh, thank you, thank you," she whispered in awe.

She saw Harmony and Aura running her way and she let go of her daddy's hand to meet them halfway. Harmony clutched her arms and squealed, and they bounced up and down. "Cordelia, you're so lucky!" Harmony cried. "You have the best dad ever!"

Cordelia nodded, in full agreement. She headed over to the table that was already filled with presents so that she could look them over. She would be careful not to touch one until her daddy said it was okay. Almost there, the light in her eyes flared and then dimmed angrily as she saw two figures sitting on the swings *she* had wanted to sit on later.

Willow. Xander. The two worst kids in the world. But, even though she hated them, her heart did a funny little dance when she thought about her last talk with Xander, and the kiss he gave her. She had washed her face, and even her mouth with soap for a full ten minutes when she had gotten home that day, but the memory lingered. And she hated him all the more for it.

Veering off the path to her gifts, she headed to the swings and stopped as she reached them, putting her hands on her hips. "What do you guys think you're doing here?" she asked indignantly. She was even madder when Xander just shrugged and answered her calmly.

"Swinging."

Getting too little reaction out of him, she turned to the little red-head. "Shouldn't you be at home being ignored," her eyes flicked to Xander, "or hit, instead of ruining my birthday party?"

Hurt shined in both Willow's and Xander's eyes, but Cordelia ignored it. It was *her* birthday party... They shouldn't be there most of all! Xander hopped off the swing and stalked towards her, furious from what she had said to him, and also for the tears that were now threatening to slip down his best friends' cheeks.

Cordelia backed up suddenly, not wanting him to pull her into the bushes like he had the last time, but feeling strangely awake. Instead of kissing her and giving her cooties, though, he scooped up two handfuls of the sand and that was still slightly damp from the rain a few days ago, and threw them on her dress.

Almost like it was happening slower than it was, Cordelia looked down at her dress. It was the dress that she had specially picked, that was once white frills and lace and pink ribbons. She looked back up at Xander's angry face when she realized that her dress now had ugly dirt all over it.

Yelling in a voice bigger than herself, Cordelia began backing away, tears filling her eyes. "I hate you! You are so poor and ugly and mean and... and your dad's a lush!" she spat, not knowing what it meant, but knowing that it was bad from how her mother said it. Xander leaned down to pick up more dirt, but Cordelia was already running away, sobbing.

Later, after her daddy had gone home to pick her up a different dress to wear, she was sitting on the swings, gently rocking, listening to Harmony talk about the new TV Cordelia had gotten from her daddy. She glanced over to Xander and Willow from time to time, trying to figure out something that would hurt them as badly as they had hurt her. They would look over at her sometimes, too, and look quickly back at each other when she glared at them.

Rocking her legs back and forth to go faster and higher, she leapt off, hoping to impress some of her friends. But, while they shouted, the triumph was diminished because Xander and Willow didn't seem to think all that much of her jump.

She stalked over to them for the second time that day, keeping a close eye on her father, who had talked to her about being mean. "Well?" she demanded.

Willow leaned over to Xander. "It wasn't good as Buffy's jump, huh, Xander?" she tried to whisper so that Cordelia wouldn't hear. But Cordelia heard anyway and her eyes widened, shocked. No one was better than her at jumping off the swings! No one! She stamped her foot futilely.

"What kind of a name is Buffy?" she asked snidely. "Probably another of your loser friends, right? Is she also poor with a mean daddy and no mom?"

Willow stood up, mad. "No! She's prettier than you and nicer than you and she has hair like sunshine! And she can do flips in the air! If you ever meet her, you're gonna wanna be her friend and she *won't* *like* *you!" Willow punctuated each of her last words.

Cordelia was shocked. Willow had never, ever yelled. "She wouldn't like me?" she asked faintly.

"No! Because Xander and me told her how mean you were and she's a *nice* girl!" Willow shouted. "And neither will Oz, and he's older than you!"

Cordelia clung to that, because she could finally find something to say with it. "Oz is a story, loony-toons! And I don't care. I'll *never* care if some of *your* friends don't like me, because they are all as stupid as you!"

Xander got up as well and grabbed hold of Willow's hand. Cordelia didn't like the way that made her feel, and felt worse when Xander said softly. "C'mon, Wills. Let's go, okay? It's her birthday, and maybe we're being too mean."

Willow turned to him, ashamed, and allowed him to lead her away from the playground. Cordelia felt bad for the rest of the day, but she didn't say that to anyone. Sometimes she felt like she would have liked to have been their friends... But everyone treated her like she was special except for them, and she *didn't* like that.

Sometimes after that day, Cordelia would go back to the playground, and sit on one of the swings sadly, wishing that things were different. Even though she had a lot of friends, sometimes she felt lonely, and wished that she had what Xander and Willow had. Sometimes she wished for a lot of things.

She eventually stopped going to the playground as time went on, and even managed to forget being sad; She always had to smile, her mother said, always smile no matter what. And so she did. But she had a feeling that if it weren't for that day at her birthday party, it wouldn't ever be so hard to smile.

If it weren't for that day on the playground.


	12. This Used to Be My Playground

1999

The summer air was warm, but not hot as the group poured onto the park, giggling and talking over each other. Giles carried a large picnic basket, and Buffy signaled to a spot underneath a nearby tree. They headed over there, and she spread out the blanket.

Willow leaned against Oz's shoulder, kicking her feet into Xander's lap. He looked down in mock horror and she laughed, feeling somehow lighter than she had in a long time. Cordelia took her place next to Xander, and Buffy and Giles sat next to each other, propped up against their hands.

"You realize this is like a vacation?" Buffy looked pointedly at her Watcher. "I didn't think those were allowed."

"They're not. However, since I am no longer officially your Watcher, I don't feel the need to conform to the Council's orders." He smiled, belying the haughty tone. "Besides, Willow was going to force me to work on that blasted computer if I stayed in today, so we're here at the park."

"I've always liked this park," Xander stated, smiling at Cordelia. "Although I don't know exactly why. Didn't we have our first kiss here, Wills?"

Willow blushed and couldn't manage to meet Oz's eyes. "Xander!"

"What?" He leaned over and kissed the top of Cordelia's hair. "It was a long time ago."

"Everything was a long time ago," Oz noted. "Doesn't it seem that way?"

Cordelia nodded. "Almost a lifetime."

Willow raised her eyebrows at that. "Does anyone else have the weird feeling that Cordelia is missing childhood or something else relatively normal?"

Xander laughed and his girlfriend shot him a dirty look. "I reminisce all the time," she began, smiling. After a moment, her expression dropped. "Though most of what I think about isn't good. I was a real..." she sent a sliding glance to Xander, "Bitca back then, wasn't I?"

Giles coughed, trying to cover a laugh. Xander looked indignant. "It was a joke, okay? I was joking when I said that! Are you people never going to forget?!"

"Not on the likely, Xand," Buffy remarked loftily.

Oz turned to Willow, smiling teasingly. "You kissed Xander in this park?"

Willow blushed again. "Not just Xander! I kissed other boys! Oh, er…that's not what I meant. One other boy."

"Who?" Xander, Cordelia and Buffy's voices overshadowed Oz and Giles, but Willow caught them anyway.

"You want to know, Giles?" She giggled.

"Well, I'm afraid, like it or not, I'm rather caught up in what happens in all of your lives. Mostly because I have to hear about all the latest gossip while I'm getting pummeled by Buffy. And I'm not sure which is the worse punishment."

Buffy shook her head. "Nope, face it Giles. You're hooked. Our lives are like your own personal soap opera. Except for the cheating and the wife-swapping and baby kidnapping. Oh, and the sleeping with the same people as our parents."

All of the teenagers "eewed" and Giles reddened. Trying to turn everyone's attention away from himself, he looked desperately at Willow. "So who was your mystery man, Willow?"

Willow snickered. "Mystery man? Giles, you just called him a mystery man!" she hooted. Catching the odd glances of those around her, she stifled another laughed and shrugged. "I make my own fun, okay?"

Oz stroked her hair softly. "So who was it?"

Willow smiled at him. "Trying to ply me with sweet words and soft touches?"

"Yes." He grinned.

Willow paused, thinking. "Actually, I don't know... He had dark red hair, I think. I'm sure that I could remember something else if I tried, but I'm too relaxed."

A dangerous glint appeared in Buffy's eye, and she turned to Xander. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking then we're thinking the same thing," he joked. Glancing at each other and then back at Willow, they cried out in unison.

"Tickle!"

Pouncing on her, they began a merciless tickle attack, grabbing at her ribs and knees. Willow tried to curl up into a little, giggling ball, but Oz held her open for the siege and she was helpless. After a moment of looking at each other, Cordelia and Giles shrugged and joined in.

"All right! All right!" Willow squeaked. Tears of laughter stained her face as the merciless onslaught finally ceased. "Let me see, he had red hair and he kissed me. Or I kissed him. Xander had disappeared I think. Probably chasing after some other girl."

Only Xander noted the sad tone behind the soft sentence and he looked down at his hands. "Sorry, Wills."

She looked up at him, shaking off the memory that had been so close to the surface. "Don't be, Xander." She hugged him then settled back into Oz's embrace. "It's all good."

Buffy smiled then looked at Giles. "What about you, stodgy English guy. What amazingly boring stuff did you do as a kid? Watch?"

"And mock and laugh," he muttered, covering a grin with his hand. Buffy hit him softly on the arm and he winced and let go of a laugh before falling silent, thinking. "No... I was a normal child. I had friends, I traveled, I prepared for being a Watcher."

"Like all normal children," Oz deadpanned.

Buffy nudged her Watcher. "And what about kissage? Since you're so interested in Willow's tales of childhood romance..." She smiled saucily.

His face stilled as though something occurred to him, but after a moment he looked at them, relaxed. Buffy jumped on that. "That! What you were thinking there! You have to tell us that, or suffer the same fate that Willow did at the hands of tickling savages. And you know I could hold you down, Giles," she threatened.

He hesitated, his eyes falling on Xander. "So, you kissed Willow in this park?" he asked quickly.

"Oh yeah, Willow was my babe. But that's not getting you out of it." Xander grinned devilishly. "You were having smoochies in your youth, and as much as it disturbs me, we're gonna hear about them."

Giles sighed. "Well, I remember this beautiful horse…"

Willow shrieked with laughter, burying her face in Oz's chest. "Please tell me you didn't kiss a horse, Giles."

"As I was saying," he glared at the redhead. "I was staying at a Watcher's retreat with my parents and there was a neighboring estate. They had a beautiful horse there. And two very lovely young girls visiting, as I recall."

"Name, date, details!" Buffy insisted, poking him in the side. "Did you woo them both?"

"I love wooing," Willow sighed.

"Were they rich?" Cordelia asked. "Because you should have gotten their numbers and you could be wealthy and have a real car." At everyone's look, she shrugged. "What? I'm only thinking of his well being."

Giles shook his head. "I don't recall their names. There were two girls and a boy. And the boy was infatuated with one of them. He was terribly obvious and she was oblivious. I believe she kissed me to see what he'd do."

"Was she a good kisser?"

He looked over at Xander, realizing in that instant who the young boy reminded him of. "Quite good. Although I doubt the boy ever found out."

"Maybe he did," Willow said quietly, a sad look on her face. Then she brightened, turning to Oz. "And you, Mr. So-You-Kissed-Xander-Here?"

Oz looked smug. "I saved all my kisses for you, Will."

She slapped his arm lightly. "Did not! C'mon, give!"

His face flashed guiltily and he chuckled. "There was one girl... I don't remember any solid details about it. She kissed me, in a playground like this one. I have a thing for girls who kiss me first," he finished, his eyes twinkling. "But enough about me. Buffy, Cordelia?"

Cordelia tensed, shooting a look to Buffy. "Do you want to field this one?"

Buffy lifted her shoulders lightly. "Nope. There was no kissing. A couple of people I met who were pretty special, but that was too long ago to remember. I daydreamed about kisses a lot, if that helps at all. I had this one where Angel scooped me up in his arms really tightly and pressed his lips to mine... You know, the kind of kiss you just sink into?"

Willow looked at her, her eyes dancing. "That's the dream you had last night!"

"Actually, I had a dream…it was kind of strange. Like it was me, but not me." Seeing Giles' worried look, she placed her hand on his arm. "Not a prophecy type dream. Not a bad dream. It was a long time ago and I was this girl and I was in some village with my relatives. And this handsome boy helped us. He was so cute. And I think I kissed him."

"That sounds nice." Willow scrunched up her face. "I had a dream I was attacked by some little, scary brunette girl."

Cordelia huffed. "I never physically attacked you. As I recall, you and Xander were the attackers."

"No, we were the ones defending ourselves from your venomous barbs." Xander pulled Cordelia into a hug. "But it's okay. We forgive."

"You forgive," Willow muttered.

"Well, I admit, I wasn't the nicest. I wasn't even close to the nicest. But I clean up good." She smiled proudly. "It's funny. I got kissed here once too. I think. Probably some frisky first grader hoping to improve his social status." She shrugged.

"What kind of guy would do that?" Xander asked with a smile. Cordelia arched her perfect brows at him and he looked sheepish. "Okay, I might have if we hadn't hated each other so much."

She laughed. "We hated each other when we first kissed!" At his confused look, she elaborated. "In Buffy's basement? Xander Harris, you'd better remember that!"

He finally grinned, kissed her lightly. "Of course I remember, Cordy. You made my blood run cold. And hot." They shared a sweet look.

Buffy interrupted. "Your first kiss was in *my* basement?!" The couple had the courtesy to look embarrassed, but they didn't answer.

The group smiled at each other, and then became quiet, contemplative. Giles broke the silence. "Memories of childhood are perhaps the best memories of all."

"Yeah," Buffy joked. "If I could remember all of my childhood, I just might agree with you. I do, however, remembered that I liked to fly... On the swings," she explained. "I could go really high and then leap off the them, doing neat little twists and turns and somersaults and then land without getting hurt. I loved playground toys. There used to be one right near my house in LA."

Oz, Willow and Xander all looked up sharply at Buffy's statement then looked at each other in embarrassment. "That just made me remember something," Xander stated. "Willow and I met a girl that could fly."

"Weird." Buffy shook her head. "But I was never in Sunnydale. Always the LA girl."

Oz smiled. "She's how I got my kiss. She could fly and had hair like…"

"Sunshine." Xander and Willow said softly.

"Okay, this is right off the weird-o-meter." Buffy shook her head. "Come on."

"Aren't we going to eat?" Giles asked.

"Not yet. Because I don't want anybody getting sick. Everyone on the merry go round!" Buffy bounced up and headed over to the metal contraption. "No excuses. I'm going to push it, we're going to ride it, and we're going to have fun."

"There's no way I'm getting on that thing, Buffy." Giles leaned against the tree. "You children have your fun."

Buffy moved close to him, "Get on or I'll tell my Mom that you want to date her."

"Coming everyone?" Giles led the way, sitting on the edge of the platform.

Willow pushed on his shoulder. "Lie down."

"What?"

"That's how it works. Lie down."

Oz looped his arm around Willow's waist and guided her to her own spot. "I'm getting jealous."

Her eyes shone. "No reason to be."

They each lay down on their backs, their feet hanging off the edge, their hands grabbing tight hold of the bars on the sides. Buffy looked at them, smiling. "Ready everyone, for the ride of your life?" They nodded and she braced her feet in the sand for a moment before shooting forward with a burst of energy.

She pushed it around and around until she felt like Superman, turning back time, and finally hopped on, barely winded. She lay on her back, facing the sky and holding onto the bars.

The sky was calling to her, so blue and shining. They were spinning, falling, moving through space, a place where time and gravity and troubles didn't exist. The merry go round began to slow and then stopped, and the group groaned collectively.

"Gee, guys, you like?" Buffy asked playfully. She hopped off and started running again, ignoring the pleas of her friends. When it felt as though she'd wound it as far as she could without spinning them off into space, she jumped on again and sprawled in her spot.

Giles stared up at the sky, the clouds swirling around like a beautiful dancer. He sighed and remembered, so long ago, stumbling into a clearing and seeing a vision of his future. A stunning young girl dressed in nothing but her beauty. She'd told him she loved him before she'd run from his sight. He'd sworn to her, like he had so long ago to the children he's spent that wonderful day with, that he'd never forget her. And yet he had. At least until now. Tentatively releasing the bars, he stretched his arms above his head into the center of the merry go round and smiled as a dark haired nymph danced behind his eyes.

Cordelia was weightless on the playground toy, and she found herself remembering a birthday party she had at this park a very long time ago. She remembered white dresses and shallow tears, and she sighed lightly. Her mind drifted to the dark secretness of a bush, and being forced to kiss some boy who she liked but was too popularity driven to admit it, and she remembered trying to hate him for her friends sake. she thought dreamily. She lifted her arms above her head, stretched out, and for some reason wasn't surprised when she found a hand already occupying the space. Instead of pulling away, though, she simply placed her hand on top of the other while visions of secrets played out in her mind.

Xander smiled. Life was good. He was at the park with the people in his life that meant the most to him. The people who allowed him to forget that some demons thrive in the daytime. He barely thought about his parents and their nocturnal habits now that he had his friends. Friends, like Willow, who had always been there for him. He had kissed her for the first time in the park, hiding behind the sandbox while Cordelia and her friends had hogged the swings. She'd been playing Barbies and he'd stolen one, telling her she had to kiss him to get it back. Willow figured prominently in all of his happy childhood memories. Meeting the girl who could fly, taunting Cordelia and her cronies, meeting Jesse. Although there was one memory that lingered that had nothing to do with Willow. Some girl he'd caught behind the bushes and kissed, amazed at how sweet her lips had tasted. How the sharp thrill of something wrong and illicit had tingled along his spine.

But he had enough thrills now, with his friends and his girlfriend. He stretched out, relaxing, raising his arms above his head. He felt more hands there and he smiled. Yet another happy childhood memory.

Buffy sighed, watching the light, fluffy clouds spin around in the sky. She almost felt like she did when she was little, flying off the swing with total confidence that she would land safely. A remembering grin floated past her face; those two kids she had met a long time ago. Funny stories and swings and a merry go round like this one. She wondered what they were doing now, if they were as happy as she was right then, in that perfect moment. Another clip of her dream from the previous night flashed in her mind and she lingered over it. The two children who were Xander and Willow, but not Xander and Willow. Herself, who was she, but not she. And a little boy with dancing eyes and an accent that inspired her to kiss his cheek. Flying was what these memories were. Better than that, even.

Her hands snaked up past her hair, and she collided with other sets of hands. Grinning, she covered them with her own deceptively soft ones and gave a light squeeze, sighing in contentment. This was what life was all about.

Willow couldn't stop herself from smiling. She felt like she was tumbling down the rabbit hole with Alice or journeying through the lands of Oz. She'd read so much as a child, her memories were decorated with passages from books and fairy tales. She remembered when she used to get into huge fights with Cordelia because she believed that Oz was real. She bit her lower lip, thinking of the boys she'd kissed so long ago. Xander had grown up to be her best friend and so much more. He would always hold a sweet, special place in her heart. But part of her heart, one that didn't belong to Xander or Oz, belonged to the nameless boy she'd shared her most secret hiding place with. The one she'd talked to about flying and sunshine, the horribleness of kisses and promises of remembrance.

And she did remember. She would always remember. Even without knowing the details, every kiss was etched in her mind and she revisited them, like old friends, like old books. She lifted her hands over her head, just like she and Xander had done every time when they were children, like the girl with the sunshine hair had taught them to do, clasping the group of hands she was not surprised to find there. Memories were like trips to her imagination, only now her own fairy tales were coming true.

Oz was remembering. He was remembering the girl with sunshine for hair, and the two children she played with, remembering watching them play very similarly on the merry go round a long time ago. He watched the sky, in its brilliant blue, and remembered a secret place inside a hollow tree, a secret kiss with a girl who loved him and another boy. As much as he loved his girlfriend, he couldn't help but wonder at the girl who hadn't ever laughed at his name, who was beautiful and special and forever young and innocent in his mind. She had always been perfect to him, suspended in those few moments of time, and the only perfection he'd found since then was in Willow. He was so grateful for her, loved her in so many ways. But still, he wished he could remember the name of the girl who kissed him, and the name of the girl with sunshine for hair. They were always with him somehow, lingering on the edge of his memory, filling a small place in his heart.

The wisp of something flashed across his mind, an image of two little girls and a little boy holding hands while they spun around on the merry go round. Happy, mildly curious, he reached up and was pleasantly surprised to find a whole cluster of hands that was gathered in a cozy grip.

The merry go round finally slowed again, and stopped for the second time. The group was hushed, though, lost in their thoughts and happy memories and wishes for another time. No one moved, no one pulled their hands away. The world seemed quiet and serene, hushed and asleep as they remained still, thinking.

Remembering how simple life was on a playground.


End file.
